


What Friendship Allows

by flowerofsin



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2017-10-02 20:19:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerofsin/pseuds/flowerofsin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vague spoilers for events up to Chpt. 22 of the manga. Stein & Death Scythe in the infirmary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Friendship Allows

In the infirmary, Dr. Stein sat backwards in the swivel chair, his arms resting atop the back with his chin pillowed upon them. He was gazing at and pretending to listen to Death Scythe who stood off to one side of the desk leaning against the wall. With a smile on his face, he spoke about light hearted subjects compared to the dark events that had recently come upon the academy.

Stein was filling in for a few days until the new school nurse could arrive. The remaining patient in the infirmary had left hours before. Upon seeing who would be caring for him, the boy claimed that he was feeling much better, wanting to leave a day earlier than had been intended. Stein had allowed. it. Perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps the child could even sense the madness that had begun to overtake him.

Stein watched his friend's lips move, his hands punctuating his words in an animated fashion. Stein gazed on at Death Scythe's easy smile. He wondered if his friend could sense it too, his muddled thoughts. Stein was almost sure of it. It bothered him that the way his senpai hovered around him of late was likely in an attempt to have an effect on this. Stein smiled suddenly, Death Scythe thinking it was in response to his words. It was only delaying the inevitable.

Memories came to Stein unbidden of hovering over Spirit's sleeping form, his blade at the ready, his free hand resting on his friend's naked flesh. They were alone now. Stein could picture in his mind's eye the scene of him pushing the other man onto the examination table or the bed nearby. He could picture grasping that shirt in both his hands and pulling, the buttons flying to bounce noisily against the floor, exposing all that skin to his touch. To his blade.

Death Scythe paused mid-sentence when he noticed Stein rising quickly from his chair. The red head had a moment of confusion before being slammed against the wall, Stein's gaze wild behind his glasses. Blunt fingernails pressed into his upper arms through his jacket.

"Stein," Death Scythe tried to ask, unable to keep the quiver out of his voice, "what are you-?"

"You've always had such smooth skin, senpai," Stein told him. One hand raised to cup his face, fingers trailing slowly downward. "It makes me want to flay it open," he finished, pressing close.

Death Scythe grabbed at Stein's hands, and the two men tussled briefly. It ended with Stein pressing the red head's wrists above him against the wall, pinning him there with his body.

"I hate her a little still," Stein admitted as he leaned close to Spirit's ear. "I hate her for taking senpai and his perfect body away from me." He frowned, his head moving to rest on the other man's shoulder. "No one else could make a more perfect weapon for Shinigami-sama than you. I helped in that, though no one acknowledges it." He lifted his head to gaze at his friend. "It's irritating," Stein finished, his face a mask of humor that didn't match his words.

When a hand moved to pull his shirt from where it was tucked into his trousers, Death Scythe gasped. He initially stiffened, but then relaxed as he caught the look in Stein's eyes, one of rapt concentration as he pulled away to look at him, unfastening the buttons of his shirt one-handed and loosening his tie. The scientist's gaze softened as he placed a hand on his friend's belly, fingers splayed on soft skin. That hand dipped, fingertips threatening to slip between the waistband of his briefs and naked flesh. Death Scythe relaxed even as a thigh was pressed between his own, even as Frank returned to nuzzle against the skin of his neck, a tongue laving the area where throat met shoulder. Spirit sighed, tilting his head back to rest against the wall. If this was what Stein needed, he found that he could give it. As he raised his hand to fist the pale material of the doctor's jacket, making the man shiver, Death Scythe thought that perhaps this was alright and hoped it was enough.

 

End


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